Confessions of a Bunnings Addict

Hello my name is Kristen and I have a problem. His name is Bunnings.

I’d NEVER been into Bunnings, or any hardware store until I became a homeowner. Then, the change happened. Now I’m there way. Too. Often.

When I signed the contract to the apartment I was prepared to eat rice for the next 30 years to pay the sucker off but I didn’t realise I’d spend most of my weekends talking to helpful, overall wearing staff about which giant isle I find the hammer’s in.

It’s a new world, a giant world, where most are walking around with tomato sauce smeared down their shirts thanks to the sausage sizzle on entry and are pushing oversized trolleys around, looking lost.

Old Kristen would be spending her Saturday morning hungover OR devouring an Eggs Benedict on Lonsdale Street the size of her face. Instead I’m urging myself to stay focused upon entry, determined to purchase one thing only, then disappointed when I walk out with a full trolley.

God, sometimes I go in just for the sausage sizzle. And STILL walk out with a bag of potting mix. Someone take my oversized trolley and convenient car spot off me!

How big are these bloody stores anyway, the size of a small planet?

It takes me three days just to get my bearings. The staff are ridiculously overworked, every man and their child is asking intricate questions about their home project. I cannot get over how the overall crew know what isle EVERYTHING lives in. There’s 372 isles. They’re Rain Man – every one of them.

They even lure the kids with the tiny trolleys. It’s a trap kids, run! Then they made it legal to keep the dog in the Ute ONLY when visiting such stores. That’s the power these places hold.

Don’t start me with the garden section.

Gardening is a cult and once you get sucked in you can’t stop. It consumes you and drives you to become addicted to checking weather maps, wondering when you should or shouldn’t attend to your new plants.

I promise myself I’m going in for one thing and one thing only and walk out with something completely different. Usually things I didn’t even need like matching coat hangers or a new pot for the balcony when I went in for an adhesive mirror for the back of my door.

I’m starting to understand what the hell Scott Cam is banging on about and enjoy a good Grand Design episode. Send help.

Note: When help arrives, point them towards the outdoor furniture section…got to get me an outdoor set for two, preferably white to match the outdoor pots.